


rock-a-bye, baby

by starkly



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 1872
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, marvel 1872 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 01:24:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12354531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkly/pseuds/starkly
Summary: Steve liked being the Sheriff of Timely, he truly did.  The job had its up and downs, some worse than others, but it was important work, work he was duty-bound to uphold. Sometimes, however, the citizens of Timely asked things of him he was thoroughly unprepared for.





	rock-a-bye, baby

**Author's Note:**

> I'm about 3 weeks too late for the 'Tony goes to orphanages and holds babies' party, but I couldn't resist doing a little 1872 fic because why not. Basically just self-indulgent kidfic, like it says on the tin.
> 
> Also I named the kid at random and only realized afterwards why Clara Barton sounds so familiar, but I'm sticking with it.

Steve liked being the Sheriff of Timely, he truly did. The job had its up and downs, some worse than others, but it was important work, work he was duty-bound to uphold. Sometimes, however, the citizens of Timely asked things of him he was thoroughly unprepared for.

 

The baby in his arms squirmed, restless for some reason he couldn’t determine. She’d been sleeping peacefully when her mother had handed her to him, asking for just a few hours of peace to help prepare a family funeral. Steve could hardly say no.

 

It felt a lot easier to say no now. His experience with caring for children was limited, having none of his own, and he frowned at the fussy baby he was trying (and failing) to rock back to sleep. In fact, it seemed like he was only making matters worse, and soon enough Clara began to cry. Steve rocked her in his arms, wondering if it would look bad to go find help.

 

“You’re holding her wrong.”

 

Steve looked up, surprised to find Tony Stark of all people in the doorway giving him advice. He appeared more put together than usual, and a look of curiosity crossed his face as he took in the scene of Steve nearly desperate to calm Clara down.

 

“Stark?” he said rather dumbly, unsure what the man was doing here.

 

“You should support her head better. Here—” He held out his hands, clearly intending for Steve to pass him the child.

 

“I don’t think I should give a baby to a drunk,” Steve replied, wary. Mrs. Barton had entrusted her daughter to him. He couldn’t just foist her off onto someone else. Especially Tony Stark.

 

“I’m not drunk,” Stark insisted, and stepped closer as if to prove it. True, Steve didn’t smell any alcohol on him, and he seemed sober enough. His reservations wavered as Clara began fussing harder. Hesitating slightly, he carefully passed the baby into Stark’s waiting arms.

 

It was like watching a miracle performed right before his eyes. Stark adjusted the blanket around her, situating Clara more comfortably in his arms. He began to sway, whispering soft, calming words as he rocked her back and forth, and amazingly she quieted down, her fussing slowing until it stopped completely.

 

The truly stunning part, however, was the look on Stark’s face. He was smiling, eyes only for the baby, his expression one of warm contentment. It was the happiest he’d ever seen Stark since, well—since he’d come to Timely.

 

“How’d you get so good at that?” he blurted out, only realizing he’d interrupted the mood after. But he couldn’t recall Stark ever mentioning children, nor did Stark spend much time with the children in town.

 

Thankfully, Stark didn’t seem disturbed. He looked up at Steve, momentarily turning that affectionate gaze toward him, and Steve blinked at the unfamiliarity of it. “A cousin of mine has a big family,” he said simply, still gently rocking Clara. “Suppose I picked up a few tricks.”

 

He fell silent as Clara burbled some unintelligible baby speak, but then he smiled like she’d just said something clever and responded, “You just needed a little patience, didn’t you, sweetheart?”

 

A warm knot of something Steve hadn’t felt for a long time blossomed in his chest as he watched Stark. Despite Steve’s misgivings, Stark clearly knew what he was doing, and even more astounding, he looked happy doing it. Steve ignored the part of himself that said Stark wouldn’t care for the imposition and asked,

 

“Would you mind staying a bit? I could use the help.”

 

“Why, Sheriff,” Stark replied with a grin, “seems you’re not completely perfect after all.”

 

Steve let out a snort, though he noted that Stark hadn’t turned him down. “Whoever told you that clearly ain’t a reliable source.”

 

“He’s been known to embellish a few things,” Stark said lowly, head bent over the baby.

 

Steve didn’t press the subject, going to sit at his desk to rest a moment. The sheriff’s office wasn’t particularly homey, and Steve considered getting up and offering Stark the chair, but before he could say anything Clara began to whimper and fuss again.

 

“Maybe you don’t got the magic touch after all,” Steve teased, though he looked on with concern. Stark just shot him a look before turning his attention back to the baby.

 

“All right, Clara darling, tell Uncle Tony what ails you,” he murmured, just as sweet as before. Steve was surprised Stark knew what family the baby belonged to, let alone her name. Perhaps he’d been underestimating Stark all this while. He’d certainly never pegged him as any sort of family man, but he seemed surprisingly at ease holding Clara.

 

“I think she’s teething,” Stark said, interrupting his contemplation. “Do you have anything she can chew on?”

 

Steve let out a startled laugh. “She ain’t a dog, Stark.”

 

“Obviously.” He sounded like he was barely resisting rolling his eyes, but for some reason it just made Steve smile. “A cloth, or a strip of leather?”

 

“Missus Barton is going to regret leaving her child in my care,” Steve retorted, but got up to look around anyway.

 

“You asked me to stay,” Stark reminded him. “You have to listen to my expertise.”

 

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” He closed the last drawer in his desk, not finding anything suitable, and moved to the bookshelf situated in the corner.

 

Stark took the opportunity to sit down in Steve’s vacated chair. “It’s more than you’ve got, thus it’s expertise,” he replied, a tad pointed.

 

Steve couldn’t really argue with him there, but he also wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of agreeing.

 

The bookshelf was a dead end, but before he could check the back room, the front door opened, one of the townsfolk calling to him, “Sheriff Rogers, come quick—there’s some kind of altercation down at the saloon.”

 

Steve groaned at the terrible timing. He hoped it was just some drunken fight and not one of Fisk’s men causing trouble, and looked over at Stark, who was still rocking Clara in his arms.

 

“A bar fight that doesn’t involve me,” Stark remarked, unperturbed. “Can you imagine that.”

 

“Hardly,” Steve replied with a wry smile. Truth be told, Steve rarely ever had to haul him in for fighting, and even then he’d usually just been defending himself. “Keep an eye on things, would you? I’ll be back soon.”

 

Rather than protest about being left alone with the baby, Stark nodded. Hoping Stark could handle things here, Steve grabbed his hat and left.

 

To his relief, the altercation turned out to be a drunken fight as Stark had predicted, with minimal damage caused. Rather than arrest either of the men involved he sent them home, both of them looking somewhat abashed. Then he helped clean up the broken table and shattered glasses before finally making his way back to his office.

 

On the way he caught sight of Susan Richards and her kids, and he paused, detouring over to make a quick inquiry. By the time he made it back to the office, he hoped Stark was still there, and that he hadn’t handed off the baby to someone else.

 

His fears, it seemed, were entirely misplaced. He could hear Stark’s quiet singing as he entered the building from the back, and he stopped in the doorway between the back room and the main office to listen. It was some soft ballad Steve didn’t recognize, two lovers professing their devotion as they met in secret. Steve stood still until Stark finished, and there was silence for a moment until Stark said,

 

“If you want an encore, you’ll have to stop lurking in doorways.”

 

Steve entered the room at last, Stark sat right where he’d left him, Clara still held securely in his arms.

 

“Everything all right?” Stark asked.

 

Steve nodded, hanging up his hat. “Just a squabble gone too far. But I did get you this.”

 

He held out the rubber ring he’d gotten from Sue, and Stark blinked in surprise. “Why dear, you shouldn’t have.”

 

Steve didn’t blush at the endearment, but it was a close thing. “I asked Missus Richards what she used when her kids were teething. She still had this to give me.”

 

Stark took the teething ring and offered it up to Clara. She merely waved it around for a bit, but like with all things babies got their hands on, it eventually ended up in her mouth.

 

“Another problem solved by the wonderful sheriff of Timely,” Stark said, but there was nothing in his voice that sounded sarcastic or teasing. In fact, he sounded sincere.

 

“I’m just doing my best,” Steve replied honestly. “Same as anyone.”

 

Stark looked down, away from both Steve and the baby. “Better than some.”

 

“Stark—”

 

“Tony,” he interjects, looking back up. “The least you can do is call me Tony. I am carrying your baby, after all.”

 

Steve did flush this time, the tips of his ears heating as Stark—Tony—laughed. “Seems like it’s the least I could do, with how you’re helping me out,” he said.

 

“Don’t go startin’ rumors now,” Tony warned. “I won’t babysit for just anyone. My services are very selective.”

 

Steve gave him a sideways look and a smirk. “Glad I rate top service.”

 

“Not you!” Tony retorted, feigning outrage. “Laura Barton and this bundle of joy.”

 

“That bundle of joy threw up on my only clean vest this morning.”

 

Tony lifted Clara higher, grinning at her. “Did you, Clara? You’re going to be a troublemaker like the rest of your family, aren’t you, darlin’?”

 

“Like a certain town blacksmith,” Steve said dryly.

 

“I’ll teach her all I know,” Tony replied without missing a beat.

 

Steve fell silent, thinking on that. Tony was smart, Steve’d known that from day one. He’d never applied himself though, spending more time with a bottle than anything else.

 

“That might be good for you, I reckon. Both of you.”

 

Tony didn’t respond; he looked somewhat startled, as if he hadn’t expected Steve to agree with his joke.

 

“You’re smart, and you seem to have a way with kids.” He gestured to Clara still silently mouthing at the teething ring. “You could do worse.”

 

Tony chuckled. “I think Ms. Frost would object to my taking over her duties as schoolteacher.”

 

Steve stepped closer, gazing down at baby Clara, and Tony followed his gaze. She looked so small, fragile, cradled so tenderly in Tony’s arms. “It’s not so ridiculous as it sounds. You surprised me, St—Tony. I’ll admit it.”

 

Tony looked up, then away so they weren’t staring at each other. “No need for flattery, Rogers, I’ll stay as long as you need.”

 

It’s a flippant response, but Steve let it be for now. He stepped back, dragging over a stool from the corner and sitting down. “Could you sing some more? One of those Irish tunes you apparently know so many of.”

 

Tony blinked back surprise, but then his expression twisted into a smile. “I knew you liked my serenades,” he said, and proceeded to do just that, singing sweetly to the babe in his arms and the sheriff who sat back, listened, and smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has a post [here](http://aleator.tumblr.com/post/166375914014) @ tumblr!


End file.
